


A New Suit

by Dark_Labyrinth



Series: Heroes and their suits [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Labyrinth/pseuds/Dark_Labyrinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman comes home to find a new suit to acquaint himself with.</p><p>I wrote this fic years ago and posted it on LJ. It was and still is a gift to my lovely partner. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CariadWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/gifts).



> A/N: I was randomly looking around for a good fic a long time ago, when I found this site that had fic requests in different fandoms. Well, this one caught my eye and made me giggle. I told CariadWinter about it, she said I needed to write it. She hasn’t let up, and months later she asked me again for it. So here it is (written a few years ago). A fic just for CariadWinter and I have to admit… I enjoyed writing it. Also, whoever requested this on a random site.... Thanks for the idea, and it's for you as well.

Bruce stretched out his sore muscles. The scrapes on his right hip were bothersome considering the Christmas ball he was attending the following night on the twenty-fifth. He knew that dancing would be required and his date had long nails. A wince curled his shoulder with the thought of the buxom blond clinging to him. Normally he wouldn’t mind, but considering the evening she would be expecting… he was sure he would be forced to disappoint. Eh. She’d come back. 

The cave seemed particularly dark and dank in the afterglow of the fight he had just had. There was once a time when Harvey was the closest thing to a friend he was allowed to have. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of friends any longer, they died or simply moved on with a piece of them broken with the knowledge of what he was. Or they became that which together they had hated, like Harvey. No more. He couldn’t and wouldn’t chance anyone any longer. 

He looked around the darkened cave, Alfred somewhere in the manor above, and wondered how long this solitude would last. His steps echoed in the cave as he walked to his lengthened wardrobe of batsuits. The first, his first, it was worn and had more than it’s share of punctures and scratches. His body remembered each one like a lover’s caress against his skin. Each injury had of course hurt at the time but over time they evolved into intimate memories of what the suit had done for him. 

The next, more sturdy than the last. Kevlar at its finest, along with a few other _modifications_. The cracked breast plate evidence of the blast that leveled Wayne Manor. Each suit had its memories and its pain. The one that he stopped at wasn’t the one he’d taken off just moments before… No it was a new one. 

The flat black of the suit reflected no light. It seemed to absorb the light in the room and submerge itself in the shadow. One hand lifted and smoothed over the breast. The cold feel of the hard rubber left goose bumps racing up his back and down his arms in a wave of impending pleasure. The fingers of that hand grazed the raised nipple on the suit and his own responded to the soft touch. 

He was still bare, free of the shirt and thin cotton pants he wore under the suit to prevent chafing. There was nothing he needed from another that his own suits didn’t give him. Not at the time, anyway. Stepping up onto the small platform the suit was hung on had the lights around him blinking out until the only one that shone was the one on his new suit. His flaccid cock grazed the cup that would hold it and twitched.

Both hands now traveled over the torso of the suit. Each dip that showed abs that his only dreamed of being coursed fire through his veins. Finding the new suit tonight, had taken away the anger he’d felt at Harvey alluding his grasp. The cool dampness of the cave seemed warmer now than when he’d first taken off the other suit. Now the weight of the air was heavier and caused sweat to bead on his skin. 

When had this started, this need to feel a new suit with his bare flesh? Was it the third one? Or the forth? He couldn’t remember, but his brain had no thoughts of that right now. All there was, was feeling. The tactile nature in Bruce coming out to experience his new protection, his new armor. One day it would save his life, of that he was sure. 

His hips were rolling, sliding against the hard rubber on one side as he shifted. His prick hard and leaking, and his hands still sliding over the suit. His left hand slid down the muscled back of the suit, over the swell of where his ass would go and found his own aching member. He fisted himself tight at the base, head dropping back, eyes shut, while he held onto the hip of the suit with his right hand. 

He didn’t see anything, didn’t hear anything, and the only thing he ever felt at times like this were his own need and his suit. His right hand moved, slid to the stomach and splayed over the well formed abdomen of the suit as his other hand started stroking his own shaft. Twisting on the way up and smoothing over the swollen head to dig his thumb into the leaking slit. 

Each stroke caused a shudder to run the length of his body, even his ass contracted. He stroked himself faster, squeezing tight on the way down and thrusting his hips into his own hand. Still his head dropped back and his eyes shut. His lips were parted and released soft moans and whispered grunts. Until the pleasure was too much, the intimacy he felt with the one thing that didn’t question him, didn’t ask for anything and only gave to him everything it had to offer, and he shared his seed with it in hot ribbons of milky come that dripped from his hand and down the hip of his suit. 

Bruce’s own harsh breaths were the first thing he heard. Then he heard equally harsh breaths coming from his right and he turned his head. His hand still held onto his prick as he looked upon Robin, cock in hand, come dripping to the floor. His eyes moved up his hastily shoved down jeans, over the soft t-shirt to a slack jaw and drunk blue eyes. His Santa hat still hanging from his free hand. 

“Been here for awhile, I see. Merry Christmas.”


End file.
